


Before I fall asleep (I think I'm dreaming of you)

by mikusgirlfriend



Series: The love story of Mark Lee and... an alien? [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten is a Little Shit, Come Inflation, Creampie, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inflation, Kinda, Lee Taeyong-centric, Light Angst, M/M, Monsters, Nakamoto Yuta is Whipped, Nakamoto Yuta-centric, Not Beta Read, Other, Polyamory, Smut, Tentacle Fantasy, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, its midnight as im posting this uuuhhhhhh, les geedit, seriously hes a whore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikusgirlfriend/pseuds/mikusgirlfriend
Summary: Doyoung would whine pathetically as another tentacle joined the one inside of him, and Taeyong imagined the way the creature would take advantage of Doyoung’s open mouth to slip a tentacle into the hot cavern. In reality, Doyoung’s throat was some pussy shit and he could barely take half of Taeyong’s cock before choking, but in Taeyong’s fantasy inch after inch of tentacle slid down his throat with next to no resistance.orTaeyong has a nice little fantasy and YuMark have an important conversation
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee/Tentacles, Nakamoto Yuta/Tentacles
Series: The love story of Mark Lee and... an alien? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734139
Comments: 4
Kudos: 87





	Before I fall asleep (I think I'm dreaming of you)

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who genuienly wanted a continuation of this story: I am sincerely sorry that it took me months to fart out this bullshit. I hope it isn't too bad  
> The beginning is Taeyong-centric, but it switches later. I also changed from jaeyong to dotae because i felt like dotae would fit this story better.  
> I strongly recomment reading part 1&2 before digging into this!!  
> Title is from NCT 127's jet lag

Taeyong’s fantasy begun something like this:

Doyoung was alone on their couch, the empty apartment very much resembling the situation Taeyong himself was in. The bedroom was dark, curtains pulled, and the only source of light was a ray of morning sunshine that found its way in, like a trickle of golden syrup, through the gap between the curtain and the window frame. Fantasy-Doyoung had just woken up, basking in the laziness and warmth of a weekend morning. Taeyong imagined that he was wearing one of his ratty T-shirts, one of those that had been stretched out and washed thin after years of wearing them. He imagined it hanging loosely on his frame in a way that exposed his collar bones. His black hair would be ruffled, both in a sleepy and in a sexy way. 

The background details were a little fuzzy, mainly because Taeyong didn’t care much for them. He was trying to get off, not come up with a novel. Still, it did make him a little excited to think about the bigger picture, to come up with how the fantasy would play out if it ever happened in real life. Getting a little hot, Taeyong kicked off the blanket that was draped over his body, making himself more comfortable on the bed.

Imaginary Doyoung was stretched out on the couch, boxers slowly sliding down his gorgeous legs. His hand fluttered over his thigh, hastily inching towards his dick. Normally, Doyoung was the type of guy who wanted to slowly build up his climax, disliking to rush things, but in this fantasy-world Taeyong was in charge and he controlled the pace.

Taeyong imagined Doyoung sliding his shirt off to rub his nipples, and a first hot flash of arousal sparked in his belly at the imagery. God his boyfriend was sexy. Slowly, Taeyong let his own hand gravitate inside of his PJs, shivering as he stroked his hardening length. Pleasure was flaring like sparks along his dick, heat travelling through his limbs and centering in his stomach. 

Taeyong imagined Doyoung would already be hard, legs spread and cockhead dripping, when a tentacle stuck to his leg. In Taeyong’s fantasies, the tentacles always varied in appearance. Sometimes they were sleek and dark, almost demonic, and sometimes they were fat and misshaped, red and bulbous and absolutely disgusting. Today they were greenish in colour, slimy and wet. Ocean-like, almost. They didn’t stem from anything in particular, no alien or plant or unidentifiable creature. They just sprouted from thin air, and Taeyong didn’t care to think up what they were attached to. 

Not unlike a kiss, Taeyong imagined one of the suction cups latching itself to Doyoung’s skin, suckling sweetly until a faint bruise formed. Doyoung in real life would probably be terrified if a tentacled monster crept up to him and tried to help him jerk off, but Doyoung in Taeyong’s imagination just moaned gratefully as another appendage joined the first one, reaching for the aching cock in Doyoung’s hand.

Softly but still firmly, it slapped his hand away, curling around the hard dick. The noises would be wet and slick as the tentacle slid up and down, suction cups creating a sporadic and unpredictable pressure. Doyoung groaned, mouth dropping open as more tentacles started creeping across his body. They slid over his skin, leaving trails of slick in their wake, surrounding him on all sides. It was something that violently aroused Taeyong, the idea of being completely at the mercy of someone else, and his hand sped up as he thought of his precious Doyoung wrapped up in a wriggling mess of tentacles. 

Taeyong was already quite worked up and decided to skip the prep, instead imagining Doyoung on his hands and knees, one tentacle slipping into his magically loosened asshole. For a moment, he imagined Doyoung scrunching up his nose in that cute bunny-like way he did when he was annoyed or concentrated. Then he felt bad about it, considering what he was about to have the tentacles do to his precious boyfriend so he… stopped imagining that. 

Regaining posture from his momentary slip-up, Taeyong thought of the way the tentacles would curl inside of Doyoung’s body. He imagined the way Doyoung would whine pathetically as another tentacle joined the one inside of him, imagined the way the creature would take advantage of Doyoung’s open mouth to slip a tentacle into the hot cavern. In reality, Doyoung’s throat was some pussy shit and he could barely take half of Taeyong’s cock before choking, but in Taeyong’s fantasy inch after inch of tentacle slid down his throat with next to no resistance. Doyoung’s neck was bulging and he coughed a little, drool running down his cheeks in an obscene way, and Taeyong almost felt a little overwhelmed at the visual. (He always did when he fantasised about tentacles. He rarely allowed himself to, too ashamed of the things that made him hot and bothered, but once he did it made him so horny he was ready to cry simply because of how aroused he was) 

Taeyong’s hand was shaking as he lifted it to his mouth, licking his palm to slick it up better before wrapping a hand around himself again. He sobbed at the delicious friction, hips kicking to better meet the stimulation. He could already taste his peak not too far away, which would have been embarrassing if he hadn’t been too tired to care. 

Doyoung was slowly but surely falling apart in Taeyong’s imagination. His body was wet and sticky, mucus making the tentacles’ slide over his skin easy and smooth. Two tentacles latched their suction cups onto his nipples, making Doyoung arch his back into it, gasping harshly. His wet eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, cock spurting a few globs of cum onto the couch. But the tentacles didn’t stop, and Taeyong decided imaginary Doyoung didn’t want them to stop, even as he collapsed face-first onto the ratty sofa. He was exhausted, crying as the tentacles kept abusing his body, but it was Taeyong’s fantasy and in this fantasy-world Doyoung wanted more. 

Pinching his own nipples, twisting lightly, Taeyong sighed and bucked up into his hand. He clenched his eyes shut even harder, imagining Doyoung cumming again and again until he was a trembling, sobbing mess with drool and tears trickling down his face. That was something that also turned Taeyong on beyond belief: being pushed to the edge and further, used until he was delirious and could barely recall his own name. 

Taeyong felt himself growing closer and envisioned Doyoung convulsing as the tentacles started swelling ominously, filling his mouth and (let’s be realistic, probably torn) ass. The swelling forced his jaws open so wide that he whimpered in pain, the sound muffled by the fat limb on his tongue. Taeyong felt a little breathless as he pumped himself harder, faster, thinking about how the tentacles would slow to a stop before releasing inside of Doyoung. 

There would be so much of it, floods of cum being forced into him from both ends. Doyoung’s eyes would fly wide open in alarm as literal buckets of semen were pumped into him, making his stomach bulge with the load. His mouth would be filled too, Taeyong decided, Doyoung spluttering as white, creamy liquid poured down his throat. He would struggle to swallow it without suffocating, a lot of it overflowing and dripping out. He’d cough and gag on it. The cum would be running down his tense neck in rivulets, and Doyoung would cry as the creature kept filling his stomach with cum from both ends. He’d be stuffed until he was ready to burst, and it was such an erotic image that Taeyong felt like he was burning up with desire. 

Taeyong’s climax was building, and he teased the head of his cock with his thumb before squeezing his member harder, thinking about what Doyoungg would look like in the aftermath. Wrecked, he decided, he would be absolutely wrecked. His belly would be so bloated he’d look pregnant, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead and when the tentacles retracted it would be like pulling a plug out. Cum would drip, no seep, out of his gaping asshole. He would cough it up, tongue lolling out as it dribbled out. Doyoung would try to get up but he would wobble, too heavy with the semen the tentacles had bred him with…

Taeyong stiffened as his climax hit him, a small breathy whimper tearing itself from him as he arched his back. Every muscle in his body tensed, his toes curling as his dick twitched before spilling over his fingers. Pleasure coursed through his system, making Taeyong’s head spin before he went lax, sinking back onto the mattress.

Breathing heavily, he lay still trying to gather himself, chest rising and sinking. His limbs were pleasantly heavy, warm and buzzing. Taeyong felt the gnawing guilt that accompanied his fantasies come creeping and he pushed it away, wanting to bask in the afterglow for a little longer. He lifted his cumstained fingers up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lap up the semen, partly because it made him feel sexy and partly because it was practical. The taste was salty and made him wince a little, but he was used to it. 

With a somewhat clean hand he felt around the nightstand until he found the tissue box, ripping out one to haphazardly wipe himself off. It was a little disgusting, he acknowledged to himself as he balled the used napkin up and discarded it on the floor next to the bed, but as he curled himself up and pulled the blanket over himself again he really was too comfortable to care. 

Inside his bubble Taeyong was warm and safe, his body sensitive to everything from the soft drag of cotton against his skin to the very faint smell of sweat from his armpits. Time ticked by slowly, and when the door opened a couple of minutes (hours? Days?) later, Taeyong hadn’t moved an inch. 

“I’m home!” Doyoung’s voice came floating into the room, making Taeyong smile into the pillow. Dating Doyoung had been an uncertain decision, and it was definitely hard at times; with the years of friendship behind them, Taeyong sometimes struggled to properly grasp how he should act around Doyoung. How he should show love and affection to someone who had been a platonic friend for so long. It had been difficult and in the beginning there had been many occasions where he wondered if Doyoung and Taeyong were really fit to be something more than just friends. Then Doyoung had given him one of those soft smiles, or whacked him lightly with a book for not paying attention, and Taeyong had been reminded of all the millions of tiny things that made it, that made  _ them _ , worth the effort. 

The door creaked open, a sliver of sunlight dripping in. Doyoung stuck his head inside the bedroom, standing on the doorstep without entering. He smiled fondly at Taeyong lying in bed, hair all over the place and without a doubt with pillow marks on his face. His gaze drifted to the tissues on the floor and an eyebrow rose, smile turning into a sigh as he took note of Taeyong’s nakedness.

“If you’re gonna jerk off, please throw the tissues in the bin afterwards” he chastised mildly, bending down to pick the balled up papers from the floor. Taeyong blushed a little.

“Sorry” he muttered, not feeling very sorry at all, not when he knew Doyoung would let him get away with anything. Doyoung shot him a weak glare but it melted away almost instantly, confirming Taeyong’s suspicions. He sank down onto the bed next to where Taeyong was lying, running a hand through Taeyong’s hair. Taeyong closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively, leaning into the touch instead of bickering like he might have done if he was more awake. Sometimes, their relationship was sweet and sour like that; hot and cold, Tom and Jerry, whatever. Taeyong no longer felt flustered when Doyoung touched him, it was more of a nod to their past. He liked their little game of push and pull, he liked teasing Doyoung, he liked having that dynamic with him. Partly because Doyoung was Doyoung, and he’d always know where the line was and when it was time to stop. 

“What did you think about?” Doyoung asked casually. It took a while for Taeyong to fully register the question and once he did he cracked an eye open to look at his boyfriend. Doyoung’s cheeks were unusually dark although he obviously was trying to play it cool and once the full weight of the question had sunk in Taeyong felt a little embarrassed himself, even though they’d done and talked about more explicit things than masturbating. There was just something about the way Doyoung carded his fingers through Taeyong’s hair, scratching his scalp while watching him with a fond expression in the dark of the room, that made the moment fragile. Intimate even. Doyoung’s question was sinking into his skin, engraving itself into his very bones, wrapping itself around Taeyong’s naked figure.

“Honestly?” Taeyong contemplated how to answer him. His tongue was as heavy as lead but he felt comfortable and full of trust. “I thought about you getting fucked by tentacles until you were so stuffed with cum that you looked pregnant”

The silence that followed was deafening. Taeyong held his breath, scared that Doyoung would have changed his mind since last time they touched upon this topic. His blood was pulsating with every heartbeat, and it felt like he was slowly slipping out of his body, turning into a spectator on the sidelines. In the corner of his room, the alternate version of Taeyong was watching the pair on the bed, waiting with bated breath for Doyoung’s next move. 

“I see” Doyoung said, scratching Taeyong lightly behind his ear. “I hope I survived it?”

“Um” Taeyong replied in a daze. “Yeah I… yeah you did. I think”

Doyounged laughed and tugged a little at a strand of hair, not harsh but enough so that Taeyong would feel his petty little revenge. Taeyong’s soul was slowly returning to earth with every nonchalant word that left Doyoung’s mouth. 

“You think?” he scolded. “Should I take this as you secretly plotting my death?”

Taeyong smiled hesitantly as he took residence in his body again. 

“No no” he assured him. “I’m sure you survived.”

Then he paused a little, biting his lips while wondering if he should continue or if that would be pushing it too far.  _ Fuck it _ , he decided with a belly full of butterflies. “You did deepthroat like a 20 inches of tentacle though so I can’t be sure”

Doyoung snorted. 

“Fantasy-me sounds unrealistic” he said pragmatically, making Taeyong laugh quietly. 

“Your throat-game is weak baby” he agreed.

“Tell me about it”

Doyoung tugged the covers down a little and pressed a light kiss to Taeyong’s shoulder blade, making Taeyong sigh in contentment. Silence lowered itself over the pair, and Doyoung remained where he was, half-lying on top of Taeyong who was still curled up on his side under the covers, like a cat. Doyoung’s hands wandered beneath the blankets, lightly caressing his boyfriend.

The whiplash Taeyong had gotten from going from worried to relieved so fast was still making his head spin a little, but it felt better now. Taeyong knew Doyoung wouldn’t leave him because of the things he liked, they’d talked about it before and Doyoung had always been clear that Taeyong was allowed to fantasise about him in whatever way he wanted to. That he didn’t feel violated by, or uncomfortable with Taeyong’s kinks at all. But Taeyong still felt that sharp twinge of guilt and disgust every time he let his mind roam freely, every time he allowed himself to think of his childhood-friend-turned-lover like that.

Taeyong closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Doyoung’s warm palm mapping out his chest for the nth time. It wasn’t sexual, just a grounding, soothing touch. The kind of touch Taeyong never thought he’d find pleasure in until he’d gotten together with Doyoung. 

They weren't each other’s first, they possibly weren’t going to be each other’s last, but something about them felt different. Taeyong trusted Doyoung, because Doyoung knew everything about Taeyong, had seen every side to him, and still decided to stay. Doyoung was in it for the long run, and that was an incredibly comforting piece of knowledge, even though the years of friendship behind them sometimes made Taeyong unsure of how to act.

“Tell me” Taeyong mumbled. “Tell me how you fell in love with me”

“Hm?” Doyoung hummed questioningly. “I’ve told you before though”

Taeyong shrugged. 

“Wanna hear it again” he muttered, making Doyoung chuckle. 

“Alright” he said amusedly. “I’ve loved you since middle school”

As always, the words made something squeeze inside of Taeyong, and he found himself breathless. Breathless at the thought of middle school Doyoung, scrawny and acne-plagued, in love with Taeyong. Middle school Doyoung, with eyes that glinted behind thick glasses every time he recited fun wikipedia facts, in love with Taeyong, the shy and socially awkward kid he had befriended solely out of sympathy (and maybe the fact that Doyoung himself had been quite lonely in that age, and Taeyong was the only kid who was loser enough to not be out of his league). Way before Taeyong started coming out of his shell, way before people started complimenting his handsome looks, way before he was anyone. Way before Doyoung’s disciplined, studious nature became admirable, way before people were adult enough to view the nerds as the cool kids, way before he too was anyone. 

“You were a bit of a loser back then” Doyoung mused, ignoring the light slap he received. “Even more than now, that is”

“Mean” Taeyong pouted, even though he was too old to make such faces. “You were a loser too”

They had become friends because neither of them had anyone else. And strangely, it had worked. Through playful bickering, bitter fights, awkward study dates and weekly movie nights, they’d somehow grown so close that they struggled to distinguish who was who. Somewhere Taeyong started forgetting that they only hung out because they didn’t have anyone else, and Doyoung stopped thinking of hanging out with Taeyong as an obligation he should fulfill. They became central figures in each other’s lives. Even as other people started entering their social circles when they grew older, Doyoung would always be the one nagging at Taeyong the most, and Taeyong would always be the one teasing Doyoung the most. Like a well-oiled machine, like an old married couple, they bickered and complemented each other like no one else did. 

“I don’t know how it came to be” Doyoung said thoughtfully. “But the longer we knew each other, the more I came to treasure you. We started off awkwardly but you became someone precious to me.”

Taeyong held his breath, waiting for Doyoung to continue.

“It was just a puppy crush in the beginning” Doyoung said quietly “Unlike me, you were creative and artsy, always showing me little doodles and DIY clothing. But you also always listened when I recited wikipedia articles to you and sometimes you accompanied me to the library even though you’d rather spend your free time drawing or listening to music. We mismatched a little, but it was okay because you were by me nonetheless and I wanted you there forev… for a long time to come”   
Doyoung cut himself off, and Taeyong didn’t comment on the slip-up, knowing that Doyoung was a little scared of talking about the future like that. It was less about commitment issues and more that he was a cynical person who feared that naivety would jinx things. Taeyong was okay with it; he could always be the naive one who believed they’d be together forever. If he wished it hard enough, maybe he’d cover for both of them and it would become true. Maybe he could compensate for Doyoung.

“You’re so sappy sometimes” Taeyong, giving a nervous chuckle (the one Donghyuck had labelled his ‘panicked gay’ laugh) to hide how fast his heart was beating. 

“You asked though” Doyoung countered, giving Taeyong’s temple a light flick. Taeyong yelped quietly, and Doyoung laughed. Then he stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off. His thighs flexed due to the movement, the sunlight making his skin glimmer golden. They weren’t as skinny as Taeyong’s, nor as muscular as Johnny’s, but they were so pretty, so smoothly sculpted and still painted with the bruises from a couple of nights ago.

“Stop ogling” Doyoung chastised Taeyong while lifting up the covers to crawl down next to his boyfriend. 

“Hm, I think not” Taeyong mumbled, arms snaking around Doyoung’s middle as they did automatically when the couple was in bed together. “Boyfriend privileges”

Doyoung scoffed, but his eyes held nothing but adoration as he tangled his legs with Taeyong’s. The slide of warm, dry skin against Taeyong made him shiver a little, and he nuzzled his face into Doyoung’s chest, breathing deeply in an attempt to really inhale his scent. Sometimes when he did that, Doyoung complained that it was uncomfortable, that Taeyong’s humid breath was annoying, but today he must’ve felt softer than usually because he let him be. 

“You’re so nice to me today” Taeyong voiced aloud. 

“I can punch you in the face if you prefer that” Doyoung replied swiftly, making Taeyong slap him lightly. 

“Changed my mind, I don’t want you anymore” he muttered, but contrary to his words he tightened his grip on Doyoung. Doyoung buried his nose in Taeyong’s hair, placing a tiny peck on the crown of his head. 

This was nice, Taeyong decided. It was perfect, actually. God he couldn’t wait for his roommate to move out so Doyoung could move in. Then they would have mornings like this everyday, and evenings like this too. They’d share meals, they’d watch TV together, Doyoung would become an even more permanent fixture in Taeyong’s life, not that it would even make that big of a difference; Doyoung already saw more of Taeyong than he did of the guy he lived with. 

_ Yuta _ .

A stab of something unidentifiable pierced Taeyong’s belly at the thought of the japanese student and he shifted a little. He hadn’t met him since that morning in Doyoung’s apartment and that was probably for the better. It had been weeks ago, but it had unleashed something inside of Taeyong; his earlier deeply buried desires had welled up inside of him, roaring with new strength. When questioned about it Yuta had denied it, but Taeyong knew it was him that he had seen. It had been Yuta, with a swollen fucking  _ pregnancy belly _ . 

Taeyong shivered at the mere memory. He wasn’t attracted to Yuta in any way, but the way his belly had been bloated, the way he’d been so heavy that it looked like he could barely walk had been a visualisation of some of the nastiest wet dreams Taeyong had ever had. The years of Taeyong’s efforts to erase his peculiar kinks had crumbled the moment he’d laid eyes upon Yuta’s monstrously disfigured stomach. 

It had stung a little. Taeyong had cried over it, harder than before, because unlike when he was younger he wasn’t the main character any longer; his fantasies starred Doyoung. Smart, lovely Doyoung who deserved so much better than to be fucked by tentacles until he was completely soiled and ruined. It still made him ache with guilt when he thought about it more closely, the fact that his selfless lover was abused like that in his dreams. 

But Doyoung had been nice about it, so nice and so understanding. He’d rubbed Taeyong’s back and dried Taeyong’s tears and assured him that it was fine, that it was okay, that he loved Taeyong regardless. 

Taeyong exhaled shakily, pressing his face further into Doyoung’s chest. He truly was so lucky to have Doyoung, someone who loved him so unconditionally even after seeing his uglier sides. Someone who wasn’t as disgusted by Taeyong’s kinks as Taeyong was, someone who even consciously asked about them to show that he was okay with them. Taeyong looked up to sneak a glance at his boyfriend. Doyoung’s brows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched up, and he was staring off into space as if he was thinking about something particularly fascinating.

“What are you thinking about?” Taeyong asked and Doyoung snapped his gaze to Taeyong’s face. 

“I was just wondering” he said slowly. “Hypothetically… do you think I would actually survive taking 20 inches of tentacle in both holes at the same time?”

~

  
  


“I’m home!” Yuta yelled, the door slamming shut behind him. It had become a habit quite quickly, to refer to Mark’s house as ‘home’. Even though he still spent a lot of his time in the apartment he shared with his roommate, the space where Mark and Ghourbirh lived felt more like home than the apartment ever had. It was too early in the relationship to move in with them, but Yuta hoped that if his feelings kept developing the way they had thus far, they could one day live together all three. It wasn’t too far fetched of a fantasy, as Mark sometimes complained about the amount of chores he had to do and how it would be nice to share the workload with someone.

Today, Yuta was met with silence as he walked into the hallway, pocketing his keys. He frowned as he pulled off his shoes, placing them neatly next to the doormat. Sighing, he picked up Mark’s shoes that were laying haphazardly on the floor, putting the pair next to his own. Mark was so messy sometimes.

The house seemed extra quiet without Mark’s usual greeting, Yuta noted. He faintly heard a familiar wet sound coming from the living room, meaning Ghourbirh was there, but the TV was off and there was an uncomfortable energy radiating through the commonly lively living space. There was no excited ‘Hi dude!’ ( months into the relationship Mark still dude-zoned Yuta on a regular basis), no horrendous american hip hop playing on the speakers, not even the blaring of the fire alarm comped by the rattling of pots and pans in the kitchen. It was silent, too silent. 

Walking into the kitchen, Yuta was startled to see Mark standing there by the counter. He had almost expected the house to be empty. He opened his mouth to ask why Mark hadn’t responded to his greeting, but closed it again as he took a second look at his boyfriend. Mark was hunched over in a weird way he rarely was, knuckles white as he grasped the counted with one hand. The other was resting on his belly, stroking it white he absent-mindedly stared out through the window.

Yuta bit his lip as he took in Mark’s far-away gaze and spaced out expression, as well as the repetitive movements across his stomach. 

“Hi Mark” he said softly. Mark jerked a little, a tiny motion that acknowledged he had heard Yuta. He hummed noncommittally in response but he didn’t turn to look at his boyfriend and Yuta felt his worry grow.

“Are you okay?” he asked and Mark didn’t respond. The hand on his abdomen twitched and Yuta’s frown deepened. It was something he’d noticed early on in the relationship, Mark’s tendency to occasionally space out and rub his stomach. At first he’d thought it was some sort of tic, but when Mark one evening had broken down, crying wetly while touching his belly, Yuta had started suspecting it went deeper than that. Mark had never talked about that night again and Yuta had left it alone, knowing that Mark would talk about it when Mark was ready to talk about it.

“Do you… do you want to talk?” Yuta asked carefully, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible so Mark wouldn’t feel pressured or put on the spot. He was very obviously in an emotionally vulnerable state, eyes glassy and seemingly shifting in and out of focus, hand rubbing up and down the curve of his stomach. 

Mark opened his mouth, bottom lip trembling a couple of times before he closed it, swallowing before trying again. 

“I…” he said, trailing off before closing his eyes, head dropping as he breathed in and out heavily. 

“Hey it’s okay” Yuta said, walking up to Mark to place a soothing hand on his shoulder, squeezing affectionately. Yuta jumped a little when a black tentacle slithered up, curling around his forearm before gently touching Mark’s neck. The suction cups applied a light pressure, suckling comfortingly. It made Yuta smile, seeing him and Ghourbirh soothe their partner together. 

Mark breathed in and out, deeply. 

“The babies” he said slowly. “They… they were the second attempt”

Yuta stared at Mark, his brain buzzing as he attempted to process the information he’d been given. 

“The… the first time…”

Mark trailed off, and Yuta made sure to clench down on Mark’s shoulder in a way he knew he found comforting. Mark grit his teeth, as if he was in pain, but Yuta was sure it wasn’t from his grip. 

“I never meant for it to happen” Mark said quietly, voice small and wavering. “It just... it just did”

He paused, eyes locked with the counter. 

“They… they just died” 

Mark’s voice cracked a little and he took a shaky breath. 

“They died inside of me” he said hollowly, and Yuta felt his heart break as he pieced together what Mark was talking about. “And there… there was so much blood you know? Like man, I didn’t even know I could bleed like that”

Part of Yuta wanted to tell Mark to stop talking, because it hurt to hear him speak with such sadness in his voice, but the bigger part of him knew that Mark probably would do good from getting this out of his system. So he kept quiet and let Mark speak. 

“And like” Mark continued. “I’m obviously happy that we have Jaemin, Jisung, Chenle and Renjun and you know I love them just as much as you and Ghourbirh do, but I still think of that day often. It was like… my darkest nightmare come true”

And Yuta wanted so bad to come up with something comforting to say or do but the only thing he could do was stand there, stupefied, as that one word echoed back and forth in his skull like a tennis ball. 

_ We _

Not I. We. Yuta thought his heart was going to burst, thoughts going haywire. Mark didn’t think of the kids as his, or Ghourbirh’s, or even his and Ghourbirh’s. He’d said ‘we’, and followed it by talking about Yuta’s love for them. He had meant him, Ghourbirh and Yuta. Yuta was officially part of their little family. 

Not just a boyfriend, not just an added part, not just a spare piece. He was part of it. Part of the ‘we’ that Mark’s family consisted of. With a heart fluttering so wildly that Yuta feared for his health, he broke out of his daze, trying to gather himself. 

“Hey” he said gently, stroking a strand of hair out of Mark’s face before cupping his chin. Mark unconsciously leaned into the touch. “I know… I know it hurts. And it’s okay to hurt, you know? That doesn’t mean that you don’t love our babies”

Yuta gently tugged Mark into his embrace, wrapping his arms around him and burying his nose in Mark’s hair. Mark didn’t answer or hug back, just relaxed, sinking into Yuta’s embrace like a dead weight. It didn’t deter Yuta who squeezed his boyfriend tighter, giggling when a tentacle looped around the two of them like a ribbon around a present. 

“Listen” he whispered, lips moving against the crown of Mark’s head. “Having a hard time processing a trauma like that doesn’t mean you haven’t moved on in other ways, right? You can be sad  _ and _ love Jaemin, Jisung, Renjun and Chenle, at the same time. It’s okay Mark. One doesn’t exclude the other”

Mark’s rigid body relaxed a little. 

“Really?” he whispered into Yuta’s chest and Yuta felt a wave of fondness for the younger boy rush through his body.

“Really” he confirmed. Ghourbirh’s tentacle pressed into his back and then he felt that slightly uncomfortable sensation of a presence prodding at his mentality. 

_ Is it okay? _ she asked, and Yuta knew she meant him and not Mark. Ghourbirh could sense Mark’s mood as long as he didn’t block the soulbond (which he did occasionally, when he didn’t want to worry his mate with his troubled thoughts), but she struggled to grasp Yuta in the same way. 

_ Yeah _ , Yuta communicated back, still a little unused to this form of conversation but happy that Ghoubirh had accepted him and tried her best to care about him the way she cared about Mark. _ I’m fine _ Yuta projected back as well as he could. _ Is Mark okay? _

He knew it was a little shady to ask Ghourbirh, who could poke around in Mark’s head, how Mark was but he just wanted to know if Mark was fine.

_ It is sad _ , Ghourbirh said plainly. _ Right now _ .  _ But it will get happy again soon. Humans change so fast _

Yuta almost wanted to laugh. Ghourbirh’s confusion of the fickleness of human emotions was cute. In some ways, Yuta supposed it should put him off, being in a three way relationship with something so blatantly non-human, especially since the creature was so close to Mark in ways he could never be, but Yuta hadn’t ever felt threatened by it. Ghourbirh, in a way, treated them quite similarly. The semantics of relationships went lost to the ancient alien, and while she shared a different connection to Mark she had never done anything to make Yuta feel left out. In fact, Yuta was surprised by how seamlessly he’d blended into the dynamic; Ghourbirh treated him with the same kind yet slightly clueless affection as he did with Mark. A bit like a guardian and a child at the same time in the way that she cared for them while also failing to understand a lot of human inventions. It was strange sharing his life with an extraterrestrial being, but for every day that passed Yuta more and more found himself unable to imagine the relationship without them. Ghourbirh became less of a spare part that came with Mark like a buy-one-get-one-for-free-deal, and became someone Yuta viewed as equally worthy of his love. 

At first, Yuta had struggled to view Ghourbirh as something with a conscience. Their very non-human appearance had constantly made him forget that it was a creature capable of thinking, speaking, even talking (to some extent). He had been annoyed Ghourbirh knocked over Mark’s shoes after Yuta had neatly put them in their place, frustrated when she turned the fan off as he cooked, absolutely livid when they turned the lights on after he’d turned them off. But as time passed, he realised that all those things that Ghourbirh did, the things that drove him to the brink of insanity, were things she did for Mark. She thought Mark  _ wanted _ his shoes to be haphazardly thrown on the floor since he was too lazy to put them in their proper place. They thought the fan  _ should _ be off, since Mark always forgot to put it on when he cooked his disastrous meals. She guessed the lights  _ needed _ to be on all night, since Mark often passed out before remembering to turn them off. Ghourbirh had never ever deliberately tried to annoy Yuta, she’d simply acted on what she thought would make Mark, and by extension her other human, happy. 

It was after reaching this conclusion that Yuta had fully begun to understand the way Ghourbirh worked and acted. He had realised how Ghourbirh interpreted things, and how to communicate with her in a way that made them understand each other. It still wasn’t perfect, they had things to work on, but it was getting good, so good. These days, Yuta sometimes found himself spending time alone with Ghourbirh when Mark was sleeping or taking care of the babies. He’d teach the monster about human things Mark had yet to cover, or ask her to explain things that had happened during her lifetime, events far too ancient for humans to know. 

Yuta was tugged out of his reverie by a literal tug on his pant leg. He looked down, smiling at the sight of what he thought was Chenle. Unlike Mark, Yuta had some trouble telling them apart and still needed to look for differences (Jaemin had more eyes than their siblings, Chenle was very loud and kept making weird little chirping noises, Renjun was the smallest and Jisung had more tentacles than the others), but he guessed it be like that when you hadn’t birthed the monsters yourself. 

Carefully he let go of Mark and gathered the baby in his arms. She was lighter than a human baby, but stronger and bigger, with slimy limbs that sprawled in every direction, always moving, curling and unfurling. It was indeed Chenle, Yuta decided as the little thing let out a strange noise, sounding like a crossover between a squeal and a hiss. 

Mark turned to look at Yuta, smiling softly at his boyfriend carefully cradling his child. Some of the apathy that had filled his scarily glassy eyes bled away and he raised his hand to tickle Chenle under what Yuta guessed would have been his chin if he had been human. Chenle opened their mouth, rows of saber teeth glinting dangerously.

“She’s growing so fast” Yuta muttered. “I swear, when I first met him she was much smaller than this”

Mark chuckled quietly. 

“As expected” he mumbled, voice weak but no longer void of emotion. “Always so cliche”

“It’s true though” Yuta protested, securing his grip as Chenle attempted to wander up on his shoulder like they often tried to. It was difficult to keep a tentacled monster in his embrace when it constantly tried to sneak off using its multiple, sticky limbs, but Yuta did his best. 

They stood in silence for a while, Mark slowly stroking Chenle’s head while Yuta rocked her back and forth, all under Ghourbirh’s watchful gaze(s). It was oddly domestic, Yuta thought as the light slowly returned to Mark’s eyes, making him look less like a zombie and more like the loser he was. Yuta shifted Chenle so he was carrying him on one arm, slinging the other one around Mark’s shoulders. They breathed together, basking in each other’s presence, and Yuta felt something in his heart clench at how well he felt that he fit into the dynamic. Mark had been worried, hell he had been worried too, but so far Yuta really felt like a part of the family. He couldn’t speak for Mark, but he himself just felt so right. 

“Oh yeah” Mark spoke up, leaning his head on Yuta’s shoulder. “Johnny and Ten wondered if we wanted to have dinner with them sometime this week”

“Sounds good to me” Yuta hummed “our place or theirs?”

“I was thinking ours?” Mark said hesitantly. “Ten said he missed the babies. Then again, he also called them ‘slimy spawn of satan’ and you know it’s hard to tell when he’s serious and when he’s not”

Yuta chuckled and loosened his grip on Mark, peeling himself from his boyfriend’s side to let Chenle down on the floor. 

“I know” he said, watching the little monster crawl away like a deformed spider, dripping all over the discoloured floor. “Should we invite them over Thursday?”

Mark nodded before yawning.    
“Shit I’m tired” he muttered and rubbed his eyes. “Deep talks are exhausting man”

Yuta laughed. 

“Go take a nap” he urged. “I need to cook dinner anyway, since a certain someone only had some chips for lunch”

Mark scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed look on his face. 

“Sorry” he grimaced, clearly ashamed. “You don’t… you don’t need to cook for me though. I should spend time with you now that you’re here”

Yuta scoffed and shook his head. 

“Mark” he said gently, sliding his fingers under Mark’s chin to tilt his head up in that way that always made Mark blush and stutter like an idiot. “I’m not going anywhere alright? I thought I’d stay the night so I’m cooking for both of us. We can hang out later, after you’ve had some rest”

The weight of his words hung in the air above them, Mark staring up at Yuta with his sparkly doe-eyes wide open. With his peculiarly dyed hair and sharp cheekbones he looked like a baby cheetah, small and adorable. Yuta just wanted to wrap him up in his arms and hug him for all eternity. Or kiss that pink lip that Mark was chewing thoughtfully on, until it was all swollen and glistening. He was so pretty, so adorable and Yuta couldn’t decide if he wanted to treat him like the prince he was, or ruin him until he became the very definition of debauchery. 

“I’m not going anywhere for a long time” Yuta repeated, the words choking him up a little as he placed his hands on the sides of Mark’s face, cradling his head as he pecked the tip of his nose. Mark’s eyes fluttered shut briefly, his eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones. When Yuta pulled back he opened them again, at the same time as he opened his mouth. 

“Move in with me” he said. 

Yuta blinked.

“What?” he whispered, heart thumping as he prayed he hadn’t misheard or misinterpreted him. “You mean… here?”

Mark laughed breathlessly.

“Yes” he whispered, grabbing Yuta’s wrist to guide his hand to his waist. Yuta got the hint and slid his arms around Mark, pulling him close until there wasn’t a single part of them that wasn’t touching. “Move in with me. In this house. Dude, you’re here like all the time anyway, it wouldn't even make that big of a difference”

Yuta could only stare. Mark might be right that it wouldn’t make a big difference, but it felt like such a milestone in their relationship. They would no longer only spend afternoons and sometimes nights together: they’d spend every morning together, they’d wash each other’s laundry, cook together, holy  _ fuck _ , Mark actually wanted to share his life with Yuta. Yuta had to mentally slap himself not to fall to pieces in sheer disbelief and excitement. 

Mark must have interpreted his silence as hesitance because he shrunk in Yuta’s arms, looking nervous as he scrambled to explain.

“I mean I… I thought it’d be like, efficient and stuff?” he phrased it like a question, tacking a fake laughter on at the end. “Because.. you’re here a lot so like… it’s like…”

Yuta chuckled fondly at Mark’s floundering, the younger’s ears burning bright red as he tried to salvage the situation.

“Mark” Yuta cut him off, mid-sentence. “I’d love to” 

Mark shut his mouth, looking every bit as awkward as he was capable of. 

“Oh” he said. “Oh. I… uh, wow this is… I mean…”

“Did you not expect me to say yes?” Yuta questioned, half incredulous and half amused. Mark scrunched up his nose and rubbed his neck. 

“I mean” he muttered, not meeting Yuta’s gaze. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to be disappointed in case you rejected the idea so I… steeled myself?”

Yuta shook his head, in complete disbelief that Mark would think something like that. 

“Why would I reject that idea?” he asked. “Haven’t I made it clear that i love you? Both of you?”

Mark turned a shade darker at Yuta’s confession and he shrugged dumbly. 

“Yeah but… “ he trailed off, sounding unsure of himself. “It’s such a… such a commitment”

Yuta hummed, stroking Mark’s side with his thumb. He didn’t fail to notice the tiny shiver that ran through the younger at this. 

“I’m not scared of commitment,” Yuta said simply, palm sliding up under Mark’s shirt to feel his scorching skin. “I’m more than ready to live with you.”

“T-thank you” Mark stuttered, eyelids fluttering as Yuta’s hand drifted higher up, ghosting his ribs and nipple. 

“Thank you?” Yuta echoed, amused. A dark tentacle weaved itself into Mark’s hair, tugging his head back lightly so his throat was exposed to Yuta. Yuta softly pressed his lips against the tanned skin, mouthing at it. 

“Ah” Mark mewled, sounding a little surprised at the admittedly unexpected turn of events. “You know I’m not… not good with w-words”

Yes, Yuta knew. It was adorable, how someone who expressed himself so well in text and could speak so any languages managed to stutter through the simplest of sentences. Yuta kissed Mark’s neck, sucking at the curve of his adam’s apple and Mark sighed. Yuta couldn’t see his boyfriend from this angle, but he imagined his eyes were closed, face relaxed and mouth a little open. Or his face would be scrunched up, like he was entering a different realm. Cute, Yuta thought. 

Mark’s skin tasted like nothing, no soap or cologne, but since he smelled faintly of sweat Yuta guessed he was going to shower later. Yuta trailed light, butterfly kisses all over the expanse of his neck, ending up by Mark’s ear. He nosed at the earlobe, nipping it a little. 

“S-stop, that feels weird” Mark muttered, flustered. Yuta chuckled but heeded his boyfriend’s wishes, pulling back to press a sweet peck to his temple instead. 

“So Johnny and Ten come here Thursday?” he asked to confirm. Mark nodded. “Okay great, I’ll text them. Now go take a nap”

Mark didn’t need to be told twice, kissing Yuta’s cheek before turning around and dashing off towards the living room sofa where he usually slept. Our sofa, Yuta mused before picking up his phone, willing his dick to calm down. He shuddered a little when a slippery sensation slid under his shirt, suction cups tickling the soft flesh of his stomach. Dialling Johnny’s number, he pressed the phone against his ear as he absent-mindedly petted the tentacle curled around his waist. 

After a few drawn out beeps, there was a crack and Johnny picked up.

“Hey Yuta” he greeted, voice booming in Yuta’s ear. “What’s up?”

“Hi” Yuta countered, shifting to better feel Ghourbirh's caresses. “Mark said you wanted to have dinner sometime this week? You and Ten?”

“Yeah” Johnny’s tinny voice spoke from the little device. “If it works for you that would be great! Like a double date of sorts. Or like… a pentacle date”

Yuta barked out a laugh.

“Sure let’s call it that” he agreed. “Mark and I were thinking Thursday at our house?”

“I’ll just ask Chitti” Johnny responded, and then his voice turned distant as if he was speaking away from the phone: “Chitti baby, is thursday at their place fine?”

A short pause, all while Ghourbirh's movements grew more and more purposeful. Then: 

“Yeah! Tell them I’m ready to meet their budget version face huggers”

“I will do absolutely no such a thing”

Yuta scoffed.    
“Too late” he said, softly stroking the tentacle and feeling the slime under his finger. The texture sent a shiver down his spine. “Your boyfriend is too loud to miss”

Johnny groaned, but somehow he sounded soft when he did it.

“He’s hopeless” he muttered, with a tone that made Yuta suspect it was actually code for ‘he’s adorable and I love that little shit’.

“Gross” he said measuredly. “Thursday at, say 6, then?”

Yuta’s thoughts were spinning, distracted by the way Ghourbirh was applying more and more pressure to his skin, appendages crawling up underneath his shirt and over his ribs. He shuddered when the tip of one prodded at his nipple, the nub hardening under the tentacle’s ministrations. He bit his lip to keep himself from exhaling too heavily or suspiciously. 

“I finish work at 6 so it’s a little early” Johnny said and Yuta hummed wordlessly, closing his eyes as two of Ghourbirh’s suction cups applies pressure to his nipples. “Is 7 fine?”

“Yeah” Yuta said, hand curling around the edge of the counter to stabilise himself, grasping with enough force to make his knuckles go white. One tentacle had started moving dangerously close to the waistband of his pants and the sensation of the cool, wet limb on his lower back had heat rushing to his groin. When it slid down between his cheeks, carefully lapping at the sensitive skin and brushing against him with ridges and suction cups, Yuta had to grit his teeth. The pent up horniness from making out with Mark was flooding his being. He needed Ghourbirh inside of him now.

Johnny said something but Yuta didn’t register it and frankly he couldn’t care less about anything that wasn’t Ghourbirh’s tentacles stretching all his holes. Something about talking to someone.

“Yeah yeah, sounds great. I’ll talk to him” he babbled as Ghourbirh started pulling down his pants. “Listen I-  _ ah _ , I have to go something came up. Nice t-talking to you, see you!”

Yuta had never ended a call quicker before, slamming his thumb on the red symbol before practically throwing the phone away. The second he did, he impatiently started working on his pants, mouth already watering at the thought of tasting Gourbirh’s slick.

~

Johnny stared at the phone with an arched eyebrow. 

“Weird” he muttered, scratching his head. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, his naked feet planted on the cold tiles. He heard the rustle of sheets behind him, feeling the mattress dipping as Chittaphon crawled up to him. 

“What is?” the man murmured, sending shivers down Johnny’s spine when he draped himself across his back, his naked chest burning hot against Johnny’s skin. His breath fanned out warmly against Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Yuta was acting strange” Johnny mumbled, pulling up his text chat with Taeyong to tell him the plans. Then he put his phone on the bedside table, twisting his head so he could steal a kiss from the corner of Ten’s mouth. The smaller boy hummed and tucked his head into the crook of Johnny’s neck. 

“What did he say about Taeyong joining us?” he asked, lips ghosting Johnny’s throat in a way that had the american shivering. 

“He said it sounded great” Johnny muttered, tilting his head back to grant Ten better access. “He’ll talk to him about Ghourbirh before we get there I guess”

“Wonder why Taeyong was so insistent on coming with us” Ten questioned, nipping softly at Johnny’s skin. “Him and Doyoung aren’t polyamorous are they?”

Growling, Johnny turned around, gently pushing Ten onto his back and straddling him. 

“Don’t talk about other guys when you’re kissing my neck” he joked, making Ten roll his eyes.

“Oh god you’re such a baby” he laughed before glancing down at Johnny’s crotch, raising an eyebrow at the bulge. “A baby with a libido. God, you’re an  _ animal _ ”

Johnny shrugged. 

“Sorry” he said, not meaning it at all. “Can’t help that I have this really, really hot boyfriend. You might know of him actually? He’s this real twink, he-”   
Johnny was cut off in the middle of the sentence by Ten surging up to press their lips together and while first he couldn't help but laugh into the kiss, his amusement evaporated and turned into affection the second Ten circled his arms around his neck. And so, he pushed his boyfriend down into the mattress, kissing him deeply as the phone lay forgotten on the bedside table. 

Somewhere, at another part of campus, Taeyong read his latest text from Johnny, grinning at his screen.

_ yuta said its fine if u join us 4 dinner. he needs to talk to u abt something, but im sure he’ll contact u. thurs at 7. Be there or be square _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for readintg this mess ngl I kinda hate it. Anygays, as always kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> I think I'm done with this universe now, but I will be writng more NCTentacle stories in the future so stay tuned or smth lol <3


End file.
